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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24484450">wouldn't know where to start</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/extasiswings/pseuds/extasiswings'>extasiswings</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>9-1-1 (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Feelings Realization, Getting Together, Introspection, M/M, Soft Eddie Diaz, Two Times They Almost Got Together and Once They Did</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 03:48:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,380</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24484450</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/extasiswings/pseuds/extasiswings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"Could have" and "should have" are all well and good.  But what really matters in the end is what happened.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>445</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>wouldn't know where to start</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So this post came across my tumblr dash today (https://gaily-daily.tumblr.com/post/93891036744/cries-into-the-night-i-need-a-new-fic-meme-where) and I really couldn't help myself.  As a note, please do not repost this anywhere without asking first &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>It could have gone like this:</em>
</p><p>“You can have my back any day,” Eddie says, and he catches the way Buck grins and flushes and drops his eyes for a moment, all the alpha male posturing from earlier in the day nowhere in sight.  </p><p>“Or, you know, you could have mine,” Buck replies.  Eddie hasn’t been out of the game for so long that he can’t pick up on a double meaning, especially when Buck flushes deeper as he says it, eyes sparking.  A ribbon of lust threads through Eddie’s gut—hot, wanting—and he vaguely wonders whether Buck would look the same between his sheets before slamming the door firmly shut on that train of thought.  </p><p>Buck is a stranger.  Buck is a coworker.  Buck could be a friend.  But anything else…Eddie knows he shouldn’t want that.  Shouldn’t ask for it.  Shouldn’t even think about it. </p><p>He’s a mess.  And Buck…isn’t.  So, Eddie buries the attraction down deep and goes home to his son and an empty bed and reminds himself that it took too much to start over in Los Angeles in the first place—he’s not going to fuck that up.  </p><p>He almost breaks over Carla though.  Buck brings her over and she spends the whole afternoon going over Christopher’s records and Eddie’s options and helps Eddie make plans and schedules, sticking with him until he feels like his head is truly above water for the first time since—hell, maybe since his discharge—and it’s overwhelming but also <em>everything</em>.</p><p>“I don’t know what to say,” Eddie admits later that evening, when Carla is gone and Buck is still there, looking pleased with himself while also a little sheepish, like he <em>thinks</em> he did good but still needs to hear he didn’t overstep.  </p><p>“You don’t have to say anything.”  Buck rubs at the back of his neck.  “I guess I just—well, I didn’t want you to feel like you have to do everything alone. For what it’s worth, as far as I can tell, you’re a really good dad, Eddie. Christopher is lucky to have you.”</p><p>They’re close—Eddie doesn’t even know when they got so close—and words stick in Eddie’s throat because there are too many of them that all mean too much, that all want to come tumbling out at once, and he’s never been good at words anyway.  It would be so much easier to press Buck up against the kitchen counter and <em>show</em> him how much it means that Buck clearly doesn’t see Eddie as a failure or a burden or incapable.  It would be easier to say everything with kisses and touch and skin against skin.  And when Eddie’s eyes flick down to Buck’s lips, he watches them part, sees Buck glance down as well when Eddie looks back up.  It would be easy.</p><p>But.</p><p>Eddie clears his throat and steps back, breaking the thread of tension running between them.  At the end of the day, he’s still a mess.  And beyond that, there’s not really a good way to tell someone, <em>hey, I haven’t spoken to my wife in years and she’s probably never coming back, but we’re still technically married and that means something</em>.  </p><p>“I can say thank you at least,” Eddie replies.  “And I can buy pizza.”</p><p>“I’ll accept that,” Buck says.  Eddie tries not to think about the fact that Buck looks almost disappointed.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>It should have gone like this:</em>
</p><p> </p><p>They spend a lot of time in the hospital.  </p><p>The first time, neither of them are hurt.  Instead, they find themselves sitting in plastic chairs in a hallway while police keep an eye on Buck so that he doesn’t run off and do anything reckless to try and save his sister from her abusive ex.  Eddie doesn’t know what to say really, partly because he has sisters of his own and knows there’s nothing that’s going to make Buck feel better, and partly because he can’t stop wondering what might have happened if Buck had gotten to Maddie’s place earlier—if Buck and Chim together might have prevented Maddie from being taken, or if that would have just resulted in Buck also being in a hospital bed with stab wounds of his own.  The thought makes Eddie want to be sick.</p><p>The next time, Shannon is dead and Eddie’s the one lost and reeling—out of his body, his feet not quite steady underneath him.  But Hen is there and Chim is there and Buck is there and even Bobby is there, and for several minutes Eddie falls to pieces and no one says a word.</p><p>It’s too soon after that—far too soon—when Eddie watches from a distance as Buck is crushed under a ladder truck, stops breathing like there’s an anvil crushing his chest as he runs numbers in his head to figure out how much time they have to get Buck out before he’ll lose the leg entirely.  He only starts breathing normally again when Buck is out, when he’s in the ambulance, and Eddie doesn’t really know why he can’t stop holding Buck’s hand, but he doesn’t let go until Buck’s being wheeled through the hospital doors.  </p><p>There are months of physical therapy, and Eddie is there for those too—they all are because nearly every single one of them has been through it at one time or another—but something changes over that summer.  Eddie feels…protective.  He touches Buck more, and it’s always innocent, casual, platonic, but it’s like he needs to remind himself that Buck is still there.  Still alive.  Just fine.</p><p>And then, at his welcome back party, Buck suddenly freezes and pales and starts coughing up blood and it’s—</p><p>It’s like the world stops and restarts in slow motion.  Everything is white noise and instinct as Eddie crosses the yard and drops to his knees and sets to work, the only conscious thought in his head <em>please, God no</em>.  Blood clots can be nasty things, after all.  They end up back in a room with crisp white sheets and beeping monitors and it takes several moments before Eddie realizes there’s blood on his hands.  Buck’s blood.  But…once again, Buck’s still alive.  Barely.</p><p>“Are you also going to yell at me for pushing myself too hard, or is it enough that I already got the lecture from Maddie?” Buck asks later, and when Eddie looks at him, all Eddie can see is blood on Buck’s mouth, panic in his eyes, all Eddie can feel is ice stopping his heart, freezing him from the inside out, because he can’t stop thinking <em>I almost couldn’t save you, don’t do that, please don’t do that to me again</em>.</p><p>Eddie swallows hard.  “No.  No, I’m not going to yell.”  <em>I’m glad you’re alive.</em></p><p>“Is—” Buck coughs and looks down at the sheets.  “Is Christopher okay? I’m assuming everyone saw and that’s—well, he’s just a kid, I don’t want him to be scared.”</p><p>“He’s with Hen and Karen,” Eddie replies.  “He’s worried, but I promised I would bring him by tomorrow so he can see for himself that we weren’t lying when we told him you were going to be fine.”</p><p>“Eddie…thank you.  They said, um—they said if I hadn’t been around so many trained medics at the time, I might not have—so—anyway.  Thank you.”</p><p>Eddie opens his mouth, closes it.  He doesn’t know how to explain that it wasn’t even conscious, that of course he was going to do everything to save Buck’s life, that if he hadn’t been able to succeed, he truly doesn’t know what—</p><p>He nods once.  “Get some rest.  We’ll see you in the morning.”</p><p>It’s months before the roles reverse.  When it’s Eddie in the hospital bed, hooked up to monitors and IVs and Buck sitting at his bedside looking like hell.  Eddie’s temperature is slowly coming up thanks to blankets and fluids, but he still finds himself shivering every so often and Buck snaps to attention each time.  </p><p>“You look exhausted.  You should go home,” Eddie says quietly.  Buck’s eyes are red-rimmed, but his jaw tightens at the suggestion and his chin tips up, a wholly stubborn set.  </p><p>“You don’t get to tell me what to do tonight.”  Buck sounds raw, wrecked, with no small amount of anger thrown into the mix as well.  And that’s fair.  Eddie doesn’t blame him for that—he’s the one who cut his own line, leaving Buck holding the jagged end of it.  If it had been the other way around—yeah, he would probably be upset too. </p><p>“I’m sorry.”</p><p>Buck makes a sound that Eddie can’t fully decipher.  “Thirty feet of mud.  You were buried under thirty feet of mud and I couldn’t—half the people out there thought you were <em>dead</em> and it would have been—”</p><p>“<em>My</em> fault,” Eddie interrupts.  “If anything had happened, it would have been <em>my</em> fault.”</p><p>Buck looks away.  “You almost died.”</p><p>
  <em>Yeah.  I know. </em>
</p><p>Eddie reaches out and grabs Buck’s hand—Buck starts and looks between their hands and Eddie’s face, his own indecipherable.  He opens his mouth as his grip tightens—the moment feels fragile, so much that Eddie hardly wants to even breathe for fear of shattering it into pieces—but in the end, Buck says nothing.  He just keeps holding Eddie’s hand until Eddie falls asleep.</p><p>When Eddie wakes up again, Buck is gone.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>But it actually happened like this:</em>
</p><p>“Hey—are we going to talk about what happened tonight?” </p><p>They’re filthy and exhausted, covered in sweat and grime and who knows what else from the train derailment, and Eddie let Buck avoid this conversation in the field because they had work to finish, but he has no intention of letting him avoid it anymore.  Because Eddie’s been twisted up in knots for hours—angry, concerned, upset—over Buck and Abby and Buck’s promise that he would save her fiancé, the kind of promise they’re never supposed to make, the promise that could have gotten Buck killed.  Buck didn’t seem to care about that at the time and still doesn’t and Eddie—Eddie doesn’t know whether to shake him or hug him or pin him against the wall with his hands and his mouth until Buck gets it through his head that he’s wanted, that he’s needed, that he has people right here, right now who care about him, who love—</p><p>Oh.  Fuck.</p><p>He doesn’t know when it happened.  Doesn’t know when the switch flicked from casual attraction simmering under the surface to…this.  To <em>I want you, I need you, don’t go, you can’t leave, please—</em></p><p>To <em>but…I love you</em>.</p><p>Was it in the hospital after the party that went wrong?  After the tsunami, when Eddie realized just how much Buck loved Christopher? Or was it later than that?  After the lawsuit, when they’d flirted in his kitchen.  Or when Buck made Christopher an accessible skateboard.  </p><p>The only thing Eddie knows for sure is that it’s been…awhile.  And he feels like a damn fool for not realizing it before.  </p><p>“There’s nothing to talk about,” Buck says, brushing past him.  Buck grabs his keys from the locker room, clearly determined to just go home and shower there instead of spending another second in the station, but Eddie follows him out to the parking lot.</p><p>“Nothing to talk about?” Eddie repeats, catching up and putting himself between Buck and the door of the jeep.  “You could have died.”</p><p>“Yeah, well, I didn’t.  I did my job and got everyone out.”</p><p>“That’s not the job—”</p><p>“Yes it is,” Buck shoots back.  “You and Bobby wanted to choose who to save, to let Sam die—”</p><p>“Because <em>that’s</em> the job,” Eddie argues.  He feels like he’s back in the train car, where he finally walked away and let Bobby handle it because Bobby pulling rank was a better idea than anything else Eddie had been able to come up in the moment.  “We make those decisions every single day—we do what’s best, what’s <em>safest</em> for the most people, and yeah, sure, you got lucky tonight scaling down the side of an unsecured train car, but it easily could have gone the other way and then it wouldn’t have just been Sam we lost, it would have been you and him and the girl and the rest of us.  Yes, we risk our lives in this job, but you weren’t doing it because of the job, you were doing it because you promised your ex-girlfriend you would so you didn’t care if you died because of it.  Tell me I’m wrong.”</p><p>Buck looks away, then down.  His jaw tics.  Then, like someone releasing the air from a balloon, he deflates, the fight going out of him until he just looks tired.  </p><p>“I just—I just wanted—” Buck sighs and rubs a hand over his face.  “She’s been gone for two years and yet I still—I’m not in love with her, that’s not it, but I still wanted…I don’t know.”</p><p>“You wanted to do everything right, to give her everything she needed.  I get it,” Eddie says quietly, reaching out and squeezing Buck’s shoulder.  “But Buck…you’re important too.  You have people who care about you, who need you, right here, right now.  The team, Christopher…me.”</p><p>Buck lifts his head to meet Eddie’s gaze.  He wets his lips, his throat works—Eddie holds his breath while he watches a myriad of emotions flicker through Buck’s eyes. </p><p>“Yeah?” It’s barely a breath, barely a word, and Eddie doesn’t move.</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>Buck kisses Eddie then, pressing him up against the jeep.  Buck kisses like he’s drowning and Eddie is a lifeboat, like he’s starving for it, desperate for affection.  And Eddie kisses back just the same, twisting his hands in the back of Buck’s shirt, trying to get him as close as possible.  </p><p><em>You don’t get to leave like that</em>, he thinks. <em>Not like that.  Not because you think you don’t deserve better</em>. </p><p>When Eddie pulls back, his fingers thread into Buck’s hair, keeping him close, pressing their foreheads together.</p><p>“Come home with me,” he says before kissing Buck again.</p><p>“Chris—”</p><p>“Loves you. Come on.  Come home with me.”</p><p>
  <em>Stay.  Please stay.</em>
</p><p>“Okay.”</p>
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